Lessons, Sword and Otherwise
by Galia
Summary: Alanna and Numair are good friends, but they weren't before Jon made Numair take sword lessons with Alanna. Nature took its course, but in the end Tamora Pierce's will must win out. R/R!!!! I love reviews! Flames count as reviews!!!!!!!!!


A/N: I bet this has been done before, but most of the stories I'm working on are so far from being finished, I needed somethin Jill Zavodnick Normal Jill Zavodnick 2 92 2001-11-08T01:53:00Z 2001-11-08T01:53:00Z 2 1699 9685 Home 80 19 11893 9.3821 

A/N: I bet this has been done before, but most of the stories I'm working on are so far from being finished, I needed something I could do quickly.

This takes place after Numair is in the service of the Crown and after he meets Alanna, but before they're very close friends—possibly a year or so before he meets Daine (so he would be 25 or 26 and she would be 30 or so). This is about how they got so close…you'll see why it's rated PG-13 (bordering on R, but it's not really graphic). And A/G shippers, no worries…this is a story that could have happened without affecting the books.

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"But I don't see the point, your majesty, no pun intended" Numair protested. "I'm a mage—when will I ever need to know how to use a sword?"

            King Jonathan sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It's just an important skill! What would you do if you ever needed to defend yourself and your Gift was drained? I just want you to master the basics."

            The mage decided to try another tactic. "Swords are nobles' weapons," he said. "I really shouldn't use one. And doesn't Lady Alanna have better things to do with her time?"

            Jon glared. "Numair, get out to that practice court before I fire you for insubordination."

            Numair was not comfortable enough with his monarch to know that the king would do no such thing. "Yes, your majesty," he said with a sigh.

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            It felt like every bone in his body was about to come apart. "Lower!" Alanna shouted, pushing his chest closer to his knees. Numair moaned and bent his legs.

            "You big baby," Alanna complained. "You're nowhere near where you should be. Do it again."

            After an hour of stretching, Numair's entire body was shouting at him to give up. The lioness, however, had other ideas.

            "Have you had any basic sword work?" she asked him. He shook his head. "None at _all_?" she persisted.

            "I've never picked up a sword in my life," he told her. "I don't know the first thing."

            "Well, you're going to learn it today," she said, handing him a practice sword. He held it gingerly. "Not like _that_," she said, roughly rearranging his hand on the hilt. Sure enough, the new grip felt better, more solid.

            "First thing you've got to learn is the most basic block," she said. "Watch what I do carefully…look to where your opponent's sword is coming from, make sure you connect on the flat, not the blade, and give a little when his sword hits yours. Not _too_ much, or you'll wind up beheading yourself." She demonstrated as Numair watched carefully.

            "Can I try it?" he asked.

            "That's what you're here for," she told him. "Ready?" He nodded.

            Alanna attacked him with a simple strike, almost in slow motion. He placed his sword in entirely the wrong spot, and she had to stop her swing at the last minute to avoid hurting him.

            "Stupid!" she growled. He looked embarrassed. "If I were a real opponent, you'd be dead by now! Try it again, and watch where my sword is going!"

            Alanna struck again, and Numair had more success in getting his sword to the right place. However, he forgot to "give" with his sword and found himself with his rear on the cold stones before he knew what was happening.

            The lioness offered him a hand, and he pulled himself up. "You held your arm too stiff," she said. "Remember how I showed you to let my strike come at you a bit, until you have it under control." Numair nodded.

            Several hours later, Numair had to admit that he had made an exorbitant amount of progress. He had learned three simple blocks, three simple strikes, and how to keep defending himself when he tripped over his own feet (the latter not being part of Alanna's original lesson plan, but something that she soon saw would be necessary for his survival).

            "Tomorrow we'll learn a few new block-and-strike combinations, and the next day we can start having matches," Alanna said cheerfully as they walked back to the palace after their first session.

            "Wonderful," grumbled Numair, who was a good deal sweatier, dirtier, and bloodier than his companion. Alanna was not used to fighting with such a raw beginner and despite her good intentions, Numair sported several small cuts from when she could not hold her sword back in time. _He's being a good sport about all this,_ she thought. _I can't imagine being so terribly clumsy, and he's hardly complained—minus the sarcasm._

            "Thanks for the lesson," Numair said when they came into the entrance hallway. "I know I might not have had the best attitude in the beginning, but I really do appreciate your taking the time for me."

            _Mind reader,_ Alanna thought as he turned left into the mages' wing.

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            "Have patience," Alanna said. "This is a difficult move."

            "That puts it mildly," Numair growled as he attempted to perform a particularly complicated block.

            After a month, Numair's sword lessons had fallen into a comfortable pattern. The first half hour was stretching, because Alanna said that anyone who spent as much time bent over books as he did needed to be loosened up. The next hour was spent learning a seemingly endless number of new blocks, strikes, and steps that added momentum to the moves. Finally, an hour and a half was set aside for mock duels, which Alanna won every time, even after Numair made her promise to use only moves he knew.

            "Closer…just a bit quicker…that's it!" Alanna smiled, and Numair sighed with relief. 

            "I finally got it," he panted. 

            Alanna nodded. "Now do it again three more times perfectly, and I'll be impressed."

            Numair's next attempt was successful; the one after it was not. 

            "Relax," Alanna said. "You've gotten it once, and you'll get it again. Try not to think about every little detail of the move, just remember how it _feels_ when you do it right." 

            "But if I don't concentrate on what you've told me, I do it wrong!" Numair protested. "How can I possibly do it right if I'm not even thinking about what 'right' is?"

            The lioness glared. "Most of the time you do it wrong no matter _what_ you're thinking about," she told him "Besides, who knows more about this, you or me?"

            He sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right." He emptied his mind of all the corrections, and Alanna struck. The block felt easy, natural. Her sword didn't come near his face. Alanna smiled.

            "Good! Now, twice more," she said, and then struck. 'Yes…yes! That's three!"

            Numair was enthusiastic. "Can we do it some more, to make sure?" he asked. She nodded and struck again. He blocked it. She struck. He blocked.

            Alanna used a different strike, and Numair, caught off guard, couldn't remember the proper block. He dodged her sword and returned the strike. Soon they were fencing at a rate that came easily to Alanna, but that Numair found nearly impossible. He gave up thinking about strategy and concentrated on just trying to block Alanna's hits as they came. Before he knew it, she had him pressed with his back to the wall, with their swords crossed in front of his chest. Although Numair had the height advantage, he couldn't budge Alanna's sword, even when he tried using both hands.

            Arm barely tired, Alanna swung their swords out to the side. Her face was only inches from Numair's. "You can do better than that," she said quietly, and kissed him full on the lips.

            It took Numair a second to switch gears. Only when Alanna put her arms around his neck and kissed him a second time did he let the practice sword fall from his hand, clattering to the flat stones of the court. Simultaneously, the two checked the surrounding area with their Gifts, but there was nobody in sight. They finally took a break to breathe, and smiled at each other. 

            "Come on," Alanna whispered, taking his hand and pulling him inside. Thankfully, they didn't see anyone between the palace entrance and his rooms. Numair magically locked his door and pulled Alanna down onto the bed. She laughed.

            "I suppose you know what you're doing a little bit better here?" she said. He chuckled.

            "We do this quite differently in Carthak," he said in a professorial voice, as if he were talking about a different type of archery or painting. "I trust you'll find it interesting."

            When they were finished, Alanna couldn't speak because she was panting so hard. "Wow," she was finally able to gasp. "I've been underestimating the Carthakis."

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The next morning, Alanna had to hide under the bed when the chief of the palace mages came into Numair's room. 

            "There's an emergency near Port Caynn," he said quickly. "We need you out there to investigate some kind of strange creature…there have been reports of creatures from legend, beings that haven't been seen in these realms in hundreds of years."

            "Why are you sending me?" Numair grumbled, already beginning to pack a bag. "There are plenty of other people who specialize in the history of immortals."

            "Yes, but you know more about them than anyone else," the chief mage said. "It shouldn't take you long. All you need to do is gather enough evidence to convince the king to send more mages."

            "All right, all right, I'll go," Numair said, knowing that he didn't have a choice. Only after the chief of palace mages had given him a more thorough briefing and a map did he leave. Alanna followed soon after.

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When Numair came back to the palace a week later, Alanna was waiting for him in the stables. "We need to talk," she said, dragging him away by his hand the same way she had after their fateful last sword lesson. She led him to a private, unoccupied garden.

            "Listen, Alanna," he said, sitting down on a bench. She sat beside him.

            "I don't think this is such a good idea," they said together. They both smiled. "You first, Numair," Alanna said.

            He took a deep breath. "I think you're one of the most wonderful people I know. You're smart, you're funny, you're, shall we say, an excellent lover—"

            "Numair…" Alanna said with a pained look on her face. He held up a hand.

            "Hear me out. While I think you're amazing, you're also very famous and very married. If we were to…continue in this vein, and word got out, you would loose a lot of credibility. I know it's not fair that you're in the public eye so much, but that's the way it is. And you have to think of George. How would he feel, knowing that you didn't take your marriage seriously anymore?"

            Alanna smiled. "Thank you, Numair. You said that better than I could have. And don't forget about yourself. You're a rising mage, with a great career ahead of you. You don't want stains like an affair with a married woman on your record."

            Numair sighed. "True. No matter what we do, this isn't going to work out." 

            Alanna hugged him. "Can you honestly say what we did last week was anything but getting carried away?" Numair shook his head. 

            "I think it was lust, not love, and I guess you do, too."

            They sprung apart as footsteps sounded on the flagstone path. Jon came out of a rosebush tunnel.

            "Alanna! There you are! I've been looking all over for you…what are you two doing here?" The last question was more directed at Numair, who laughed.

            "Not what you think. And don't think I don't know what you're thinking."

            Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Because this garden is famous for…well…"

            Alanna shook her head, smiling. "No, Jon, Numair and I are just friends. Close friends. Right, Numair?"

            Numair and Alanna looked into each other's eyes and smiled. For a fraction of a second, Jon thought he could see a spark of attraction, but then it was gone. 

            "Just friends," Numair said contently.

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A/N: I hope no one kills me for this! If you want to flame, do so wisely, because I can't promise you I will take it personally. However I would prefer this: "You need to work on your dialogue," to this: "You can't write dialogue for %$&#!" 

And thank you in advance for reviewing!


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